


Jumanji

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2k18 [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Gore, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Injury, Prompt: The Most Dangerous Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: The Paladins put on a demonstration of skill for a wealthy potential ally, and Keith attracts the wrong kind of attention.





	Jumanji

There comes a certain point in every friendship, Allura was learning, when you begin to be able to accurately predict the persons reactions to certain situations. So it really shouldn’t have surprised her when all of the paladins reacted to her announcement just as she’d predicted. 

Lance immediately let out a cheer, always one for being in the spotlight and showing off his skills. 

Hunk seemed cautiously optimistic, if a bit nervous about the idea of being in front of a crowd. 

Pidge groaned at the loss of her (apparently precious) tech-fiddling time.

Shiro was a bit uncomfortable, but murmured a polite, “We’ll do our best, Princess.”

And Keith crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the floor. 

“Voltron is a weapon, not a show pony.” He muttered to his shoes. Allura took a deep cleansing breath; she’d prepared for this reaction. But Coran beat her to it. 

“Well to be fair, Number Four, Voltron isn’t what we’re going to be showing off. It’s you five.”

Keith instantly got ten times more cross and opened his mouth-- probably to argue-- so Allura spoke rapidly to get out ahead of him. 

“Jaxarc is one of the wealthiest businessmen in the universe. If we are to secure funding for our Coalition he wants reasonable assurance that his investment will pay off. All he wants is a demonstration of personal skill from each of you without your Lions.”

Keith snorted and tossed his head, pointedly looking away from the Princess.

“No, he just wants to feel important, like a judge on a game show or something.”

“Come on, Keith,” Lance whined, striding over and throwing an arm around Keith’s neck, “Quit being such a killjoy, it’ll be fun! Like a sports festival or something.”

Keith knocked his arm away, scowl only deepening. “It’s degrading and moronic.”

“Be that as it may, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. We need Jaxarc’s backing to get the Coalition off of the ground, and if this is what we must do, then we will do it.”

“You know, you keep saying ‘we’,” Pidge chimed in from the sidelines, “But you’re not gonna be the one showing off. It’s gonna be us that this random alien is gonna be watching like a bunch of lab rats.”

Hunk shuddered. “Thanks for that, Pidge, that’s exactly what I needed to be envisioning right now.”

Allura huffed, pursing her lips in an attempt not to lose her composure. By the stars paladins could be difficult sometimes. 

“We will be arriving at Jaxarc’s skyplex in two vargas. Please make yourselves presentable.”

* * *

When the two vargas were up all the paladins (however begrudgingly) were gathered on the bridge in their armor, watching the massive red gas giant as it loomed ahead of the Castle. But as impressive as it was, the planet wasn’t what held their attention. That honor went to the substantial space station in its orbit, a massive structure of interlocking metal rings looped around an interior connecting structure.

“It looks like a bunch of Fruit Loops on a needle,” Observed Hunk. Allura had no idea what a fruit loop was, but the other paladins nodded in agreement, so she assumed he must have been correct. 

“What’s that purple thing on the top?” Pidge asked, pointing to the crown of the skyplex. That was a question Allura knew the answer to.

“Jaxarc is very proud of his skyplex,” she began, “And of his wealth. That on the top is a 30 square yulitzs replica of a jungle biome native to his home planet. It’s really rather impressive, it even has a river running through the center.”

“Pidge, how--”

“Already on it, Lance. Looks like that’s about… twenty square miles.”

Lance’s expression turned to awe. “Wow, big jungle. And… very purple.”

“We probably won’t need to go there,” Allura continued as she guided the Castle in for landed, “We’ve been asked to land on level five for our demonstration.”

Keith’s shoulders hunched a bit at the reminder of what they were there to do, but he said nothing more on the subject and Shiro gave him a reassuring pat on the back. 

“Chins up, paladins,” Coran said cheerfully. “I’m sure we’ll have a jolly good time.”

Allura was pleased to discover that the dock they’d been assigned was more than big enough to fit the Castle, and the airlock fit securely over the entrance. Dressed in her white battlesuit, she led her paladins to the skyplex, leaving Coran behind to man the Castle. 

Awaiting them in the cavernous hall was a full entourage of aliens, all green and blobby like sentient goo plopped on top of sturdy legs. Not unlike the ex-king of the Olkari, Lubos. Front and center, the greenest and most blubborous of them all, stood Jaxarc.

“Paladins!” He proclaimed, spreading his four arms wide. “Welcome to my skyplex.”

Allura stopped a respectful distance from his crowd and dipped into a tiny bow. “Jaxarc, it is an honor to be received here.”

“Come, come, Allura, I am not royalty, no need for all the formalities!” The Princess straightened up, immediately noticing how his shrewd eyes were narrowed and darting over each of them in turn. They lingered on Shiro, just for a split second, and then his gaze returned to Allura.

“Now then, should we begin the festivities? No need to delay!”

Allura gave him her best indulgent smile. “As you wish. Come along, paladins.”

Jaxarc turned to lead them down a massive hallway, and his entourage parted for the paladins to follow before closing up behind them. As they proceeded she could hear the paladins murmuring to each other-- Shiro and Keith discussing something in low, private tones, Hunk and Pidge excitedly muttering about the displays of various technologies that lined their pathway, and Lance already having chosen one of the aliens to make friends with. 

The skyplex really was massive, all gleaming silver steel in every direction. This particular hallway was lined with, as aforementioned, examples of various technologies in glass cases, painstakingly labeled with holographs. Yes, she’d heard of this; Jaxarc was not only a businessman, but also a collector of the rare and exotic. 

The alien in question led them up to a crow's nest of a sort, overlooking what appeared to be an empty room but was probably some sort of training deck like on the Castle. He waved her closer, then with a single touch manifested a large holographic screen.

“I have taken the liberty of designing five different simulations,” explained Jaxarc, scrolling through the options for Allura to see. “You can read over each one and assign who think would be most suited to each situation, and then we will see how talented the famed Paladins of Voltron are.”

Allura obligingly selected the top most entry, and as she began to read the description, a small smirk began to grow over her lips. 

Yes, this would be fun.

* * *

Jaxarc settled his weight in his chair, leaning back to observe the first simulation. The other Paladins were seated likewise on either side of him, his followers clustered behind and watching with just as much rapt attention as he was. 

The Blue Paladin was the one the Altean Princess had chosen for his shooting range simulation, and it appeared to be a good choice. He ran unerringly through the five levels, aiming his blaster and taking out each moving drone target like it was nothing, like he was shooting birds from the air. When the targets moved back and away from him on the third level, instead of trying to chase to get back in range like Jaxarc expected, he instead morphed his weapon into a sniper rifle and proceeded to eliminate every target without moving a single step.

He was strong and focused-- until the simulation declared itself complete. Then his soldier face completely shattered and he threw up a cheer, jumping in place, and Jaxarc immediately checked him off of his mental list.

Too loud.

The next simulation was a rescue from a burning building, for which Allura chose the Yellow Paladin. At first this seemed a mistake, especially as he stood frozen in fear for several seconds. Then the first holographic victim called for help, and he sprung into action, managing to carry all six of the victims out at the same time. Strong, certainly, but the moment it ended he fell to the floor and declared he never wanted to do anything like that again.

He was off the list-- he wouldn’t put up a good fight.

Third was the Green Paladin, who was given one dobosh and thirty tics to make her way to a certain room, solve a puzzle, and diffuse a bomb. The small girl went in without hesitation and completed the whole simulation in under a dobosh. 

Smart. Too smart, she’d figure a way out too quickly and leave him with nothing to chase. 

Off the list.

Next was the Black Paladin, and this time Jaxarc sat forward in his seat. He’d noted this one from the beginning, having heard the tales of the Champion, and he couldn’t wait to see his mettle tested for himself. 

At first the simulation was dark and quiet, and the Black Paladin didn’t move from his spot, eyeing his surroundings with practiced wariness. Then, all at once, ten Galra drones leapt from the shadows and lunged for him.

For a split second, just a moment, the paladin froze, eyes going wide and pupils constricting. He regained himself quickly and powered up his weaponized arm, and Jaxarc watched eagerly as he tore his opponents to pieces, undeterred by the number and how they were attempted to overrun him. In under five doboshes he stood victorious, surrounded by a minefield of wrecked metal and sparking wires. 

And Jaxarc thought that was it, this would be the one he chose. He was strong, fast, agile, determined-- and that split second of hesitation would be the perfect moment to strike the killing blow. 

But still, no need to rush. There was still one more simulation to go and one more Paladin-- Red.

Now, Jaxarc had heard rumors about the Red Paladin. He had been described as reckless, deadly for certain, but prone to acting without thinking. So when the Princess had selected him for the stealth simulation, he couldn’t hide his surprise, and considered that she’d merely run out of other options. But then she’d smiled at him, a secret sly smile, and suddenly he was very interested indeed for what the Red Paladin had in store. 

The simulation was one of the more complex ones. The Red Paladin would have to navigate about half a mile of twisting corridors without being seen by patrolling drones, install a virus onto a console, rescue a prisoner from the other side of the facility, and then make it to the escape pods without being captured. 

He made it to the console room without trouble, having paused and ducked into doorways whenever the drones proceeded past him, carefully timing their movements and rushing silently onwards once they’d moved on. Then, instead of using the hacking software Jaxarc knew the Green Paladin had installed in all of their armor, he merely set his hand on the DNA lock on the console and it opened right up.

Now  _ that  _ was interesting. 

The virus downloaded, the Paladin dove back into the halls and headed for the cells. Curious, Jaxarc thumbed a button on the arm of his chair, triggering several sentries to suddenly appear in the Paladin’s path. He’d seen him sneak, now Jaxarc wanted to see him fight.

He didn’t hesitate like the Black Paladin. He immediately leapt into battle, his bayard transforming into a blade, and decapitated the first drone. Though instead of stopping and turning to the next he let his momentum carry him to the wall, then with help from his jetpack, propelled himself off of it and into the next drone. 

It took him precisely thirty six tics to finish off the four drones, and Jaxarc was on the edge of his seat for the remainder of the simulation, watching every move and strike with hungry eyes.

Forget the Black Paladin-- the Red was the one he wanted. And if his hunch about the DNA lock was correct, he would make a perfect addition to Jaxarc’s collection.

* * *

Keith was panting and sweaty by the end of his go at the simulations, but reasonably proud of his performance. Apparently he wasn’t alone in his assessment, as the moment he stepped back into the viewing room all of Jaxarc’s follower aliens erupted into applause, making him flush and duck his head. So he didn’t notice Jaxarc wave one of the aliens over to him and whisper something in his ear.

“You did great, Keith!” Shiro said, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him in to ruffle his hair. “I’ve never seen you sneak like that!”

Keith shoved his arm off, but he couldn’t conceal the tiny smile fighting at his lips. “Usually there are more straightforward ways to do things, but I can sneak when I have to.”

“Man, why couldn’t you have done that on the Balmera?” Lance whined, throwing his head back to groan at the ceiling. “Things would’ve been so much easier for me.”

Before anyone else could make a big deal out of it Jaxarc peeled himself from his chair and rose to his feet, immediately silencing the room. He looked pleased at least, but those squinty eyes were narrowed at Keith with some sort of purpose in them.

“Paladins, that was an amazing display. Truly worthy of the title Defenders of the Universe. Now, please, follow me to the banquet hall to celebrate while we discuss the terms of our partnership.”

“Yes, food!” Cheered Hunk. “I’ve been starving for  _ hours!” _

Jaxarc chuckled, but his eyes were still fixed on Keith, and he found himself having to fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. Eventually he tore his eyes away and led the group towards this ‘banquet hall’, but suddenly Keith was feeling a lot more uneasy about this than he had before. 

This time as they went down the halls, he noted the details he’d glossed over before. Like how every door had a lock engaged on it, flashing red, and the tiny almost inconspicuous cameras tucked in the corners near the ceiling. 

He tried to tell himself to chill out. Of course the skyplex would have cameras, the Castle had cameras, there had to be a certain amount of security, especially in a place like this. But he couldn’t help the way his skin was crawling under his suit-- a sensation that only got worse when they arrived in the banquet hall.

This room was longer than the training deck but more compact, the ceiling lower and the walls closer in, and the whole thing was painted burgundy. The long table in the center and it’s matching chairs almost looked like Earth mahogany, and the spread of food on it was lavish, but that wasn’t what any of the paladins were looking at. Because they were all focused on the decor.

All along the edges of the room were stuffed animals. And not the cute kind kids liked so much-- actual life sized taxidermied alien corpses, posed like dolls. There must have been dozens, and that didn’t even count the heads mounted along the walls in sick rows like a graveyard.

“Ah, you are admiring my collection,” said Jaxarc, either oblivious to or ignoring the looks of horror and disgust on the paladins faces. “I’m very proud, I hunted each of these creatures myself, you know.”

The other aliens were already bustling to their seats, unbothered by the display, but Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away. Some of the heads on the walls looked terrifyingly similar to some of the intelligent species they’d met over the course of their adventures, and he really didn’t want to know if those had been people and not animals Jaxarc had been hunting. 

The other paladins were beginning to snap out of it, gingerly making their way to their marked seats and exchanging slightly nervous glances. Keith still couldn’t look away.

Especially when he saw the furry purple head hung perfectly in front of the center of the dining table. His stomach instantly tied itself into knots and cold spread through his limbs, because that wasn’t just an animal… it was a Galra.

The fur around the neck and ears had been brushed out to make it look bigger, and now dust motes clung to each fiber. The eyes had been replaced with eerie yellow marbles, and the mouth had been opened in a snarl to show off the sharp canines. 

“Keith,” Shiro said, “Come sit down.” And Keith obeyed, but his mind was roiling, trying to make sense of the object leering down at them. 

He supposed it wasn’t too wild to assume Jaxarc had killed Galra-- they were, after all, the enemy. Keith himself had killed a few. But to chop off it’s head and preserve it and put it on display like an elk or a deer, like a hunting trophy… it soured something in his gut. As evil as the empire was that Galra had most likely had friends, and family, and people who cared and probably wanted closure or a decent burial or whatever it was that Galra did with their dead. 

But instead they were here. Dusty, eyes replaced with marbles, forever trapped in their death throes. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite.

* * *

While they ate, Jaxarc and the Altean princess discussed the exact terms of their partnership. He did it on autopilot, the majority of his mind busy with plans and grand imaginings of the days to come. 

The Red Paladin wasn’t eating much, Jaxarc noticed. He kept looking at the Galra he’d hunted several decaphoebs back, something sickly and disgusted playing over his face that made Jaxarc smirk in response. 

“Excuse me, sir,” said one of his followers, leaning over his shoulder close to his ear. Jaxarc waved for them to continue. Their voice obligingly dropped down to a whisper. “The DNA test was conducted and it’s as you suspected. The Red Paladin has Galra DNA, about forty percent.”

He couldn’t resist his grin. “Good,” he whispered back, mindful of the Princess sitting nearby, “Get everything set up.”   
“At once, sir.” The follower bustled away and Jaxarc reclined in his seat. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. 

After they’d finished eating Jaxarc gave the paladins free reign of the skyplex (all the while keeping certain doors locked) to keep them busy while he enacted his plan. Hopefully once they all scattered to find something to amuse themselves, they’d be less likely to notice something going amiss.

He stayed to be social, discussing light topics and heavier ones with the Princess and the Black Paladin, but his mind was far, far away. Specifically it was on level two, where his beloved rifles waited for him to come and clean them in preparation for their big day. 

He just couldn’t wait. 

* * *

Keith woke up slowly, in stops and starts, one piece of his body coming into awareness at a time.  When his eyes finally opened he found himself staring up at a purple canopy of foliage.

Well. That wasn’t right. 

Carefully, testing for injuries, he sat up. The first thing he noticed was the lack of armor or weapons— both his bayard and his knife had been taken, leaving him with nothing but his flight suit. Nothing hurt, which was good, and the longer he was awake the more of his bearings he regained.

The memories were coming back: the skyplex, Jaxarc, the demonstrations. Wandering down a dead end hallway and being struck by the sedative dart. 

Slowly he got to his feet, studying his surroundings. He was in a small clearing in front of a thick steel door, glass walls stretching out above and to either side of it. He didn’t need the twinkling of the stars outside to tell him he was in Jaxarc’s jungle dome. 

A small camera next to the door caught his attention when it blinked on, and a moment later Jaxarc’s voice boomed through a pair of speakers. 

“Congratulations, Red Paladin!”

“Jaxarc?” Keith called cautiously in answer. “What is this?”

“You’ve been selected to participate in this phoebs Grand Hunt!”

Keith’s breath left him. “What?!”

“The rules are thus: you will have three quintants to avoid me and my hunters-- if you succeed, you go free.”

“Wh-- no! This is crazy! Let me go!” His fists clenched at his sides as he shouted at the camera. His heart had gone from slightly worried to ‘holy-hell’ in about ten seconds flat, and despite the humidity in the dome already sticking his hair to his neck, a cold sweat was beginning to bead his brow. 

There are only two roles in a hunt. And if Jaxarc was the hunter, that made him…

“Hey! Answer me! Where are the other paladins?” 

“Don’t worry about them,” Jaxarc said, tone infuriatingly casual, “They’re fine. They didn’t make the cut.”

“They’ll notice I’m gone. They’ll come for me.”

“Probably. But by the time they realize the Galra ship I sent them after was a ruse the three quintants will be up, and the Hunt completed.”

_ Fuck. _

In adrenaline fueled desperation, Keith stormed up to the door and struck it with an open hand, the forced making his whole palm tingle. 

“You  _ bastard!  _ Let me go! I’m a paladin of Voltron, you can’t just  _ do  _ this--”

“Save your breath, paladin.” His voice is cheery. “Because I’m such a good sport, I’ll give you a three varga head start. Good luck!”

The speakers crackled into silence, Jaxarc’s voice replaced by the buzzing of alien insects in Keith’s ears. 

“What the hell?” Keith kicked at the door, glared at the camera, screamed at the speakers, for a good ten minutes, but Jaxarc didn’t return and eventually he backed away with heaving breath. 

Maybe he should stay put. The others were smart, maybe they’d figure it out and come back, or maybe he could talk some sense into whoever opened the door--

Suddenly he remembered the Galra head hung on the wall, fangs gleaming, and knew with chilling intensity that if he was still there when the door opened, he would be dead in seconds. 

Hissing a curse under his breath, Keith turned and headed into the amethyst jungle. There wasn’t much underbrush, just piles of fallen lavender leaves, and the soil was soft under his boots. The drone of insect wings was everywhere. 

_ Ok, Keith, think.  _ His fingers curled against his legs, itching for a blade to wrap around.  _ Three days on the run, twenty miles of jungle. What first? _

Water; water first. He could live for three days without food, but not without water. Allura had said there was a river, he just had to find it. On the other hand, Jaxarc was a hunter, he would know to check the water sources first. So maybe he should just get close to the river, hole up and hide, wait until the simulated light turned to a darker cycle. Yeah, that would work, darkness would give him extra cover. 

He didn’t have any weapons, but he still had his suit-- it was light and tough, it would keep him cool and protect him from insect bites. 

A certain thought made Keith pause in his steps. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his suspicion--  the soft soul was practically molding to his footsteps, leaving a perfect trail. 

“Fuck.”

He could collect some leaves and drag them to cover his prints, but that would probably leave its own distinctive marks, and would slow him down considerably. So what could he do?

Brushing his bangs off of his forehead, Keith looked around, grinding his teeth in frustration. Then he glanced up.

After a moment of consideration, he smirked. 

Yeah. That would work. 

* * *

By the time Keith detected the rush of water, he was bruised, scraped, and covered with dirt. Turns out swinging through the trees like a chimpanzee was harder than he thought, but at least it kept him from leaving an obvious trail.

He continued forward until he could glimpse the brown water through the trees, then stopped and found a good branch to perch upon, surrounded and concealed by purple leaves the size of his whole hand. Carefully leaning back against the rough bark, he took a mental inventory. 

His muscles burned and trembled from exertion, his throat dry as though he’d been swallowing sand. His stomach grumbled, just a bit, but Keith had to ignore it. He couldn’t trust any fruits or nuts not to be toxic to him, he hadn’t seen any animals to hunt, and had nothing to kill them with if he had. 

Well, that was something he could work on while he waited for the light to dim. He climbed up another ten or so feet to where the branches were thinner and stripped off a sturdy one, then returned to his spot and began to strip it down. It didn’t have to be incredibly sharp-- just enough to hurt something if it had to. 

He also found some seed pods hanging about, the length of his forearm. If he was careful about taking off the top and shaking out the baseball sized seeds, they looked like they’d serve well enough to carry water. He tied them together with some vines that wrapped around the tree trunk, and then he ran out of preparations to make and had nothing to do but think.

He wasn’t concerned about surviving. He’d survived in harsher places. What worried him were the others (had Jaxarc lied? Were they really locked up somewhere, or dead?) and the hunters. His three vargas were long gone-- he’d be looking, and he had the advantage of knowing the terrain much better than Keith. And he would have help, and weapons, and gear. 

Keith had his flight suit and a stick.

The hours dragged by at a snail's pace. Thankfully the light was going down, slower than a sunset on Earth but not so slowly that he couldn’t wait it out. Keith alternated between staying alert to his surroundings and daydreaming. Shiro was probably worried sick, especially if Jaxarc had told them he’d gotten grabbed by Galra. He hoped they wouldn’t worry too much.

The jungle went maroon as the light turned orange, then silver. Once it had gotten as dark as he figured it was going to, Keith tied his improvised canteens around his torso with the vine and began to gingerly descend to the forest floor. He collected a few long branches with leaves still on the ends on his way down, and used them to cover his tracks as he proceeded to the river bank.

The plants began to change the closer you got to the water. The taller trees dissipated and there were more short shrubs around, fernlike, with wide leaves. They seemed to grow in clumps and came up to about his waist, which was great, actually. They made the perfect cover for him to drop into when he suddenly heard voices.

He’d barely gotten himself concealed in the brush when the group of hunters emerged from the treeline, only forty feet from his position. Keith recognized several of them from the entourage earlier that day, peering about in the darkness with their tiny eyes, each carrying a backpack and armed with a blaster. Jaxarc led the group with a scary looking laser rifle that was probably the size of Pidge, and if Keith’s mouth hadn’t been dry as a desert he would’ve been gulping nervously right about then. 

He held his breath all the same as Jaxarc began to speak, raising his voice to be heard over the rush of the river.

“I will search the far side of the river,” he said, gesturing with his rifle. “Draag, follow me and find a place to set a snare. Lurip, do the same on this side, and Oroq, you watch the river. Maintain your posts until noon tomorrow, and signal if you catch a trail. Subdue him if you must but remember that the killing blow is mine.”

He splashed into the river, one of his helpers on his heels, and a cold shiver went down Keith’s spine. He didn’t dare to breathe again until the three aliens had long since disappeared into the brush, leaving Oroq sidling along the edge of the river.

Oroq was the shortest of the group, about Keith’s height, and seemed more than a little anxious about being out in the jungle on his own. He kept shifting from foot to foot and glancing over his shoulder, and he was making no move to set traps or a camp or anything. He just… stood there, like he didn’t know what else to do.

Keith felt bad for what he was about to do, but he didn’t really have a choice. His burning throat was a constant reminder that he needed water if he was going to survive this, and if he could swing it, a weapon. So, as carefully and quietly as he could manage, he began to move through the brush.

The little alien was even more pathetic up close with the way he was obviously slouching under the weight of his pack. But what caught Keith’s attention wasn’t the pack-- it was the hunting knife on Oroq’s belt, the one the fingers on one of his four hands were anxiously fiddling with. He could try and go for the blaster, it was in easier reach, but his aim with guns was abysmal. He’d be better off taking the risk for the knife. 

With a dry gulp and a lick of his lips, Keith pressed his stick spear into his right hand. He steadied himself, raised the weapon… and threw it into a tree trunk a few yards to his right where it hit with a satisfying  _ thunk. _

As he expected Oroq jumped about three feet in the air and whirled to face the noise, leaving his back exposed. Keith sprung, one arm latching around the aliens neck and the other wrapping over his lips to keep him from calling for help. Oroq immediately dropped his blaster in his panicked attempt to use all four arms to peel Keith off of him, but Keith’s grip was like a vice, and when it began to slip he went limp and let gravity pull them both to the ground. 

He was heavy as fuck. Keith could feel his ribs start to protest under Oroq’s weight, the pressure increasing when the alien planted his stubby little feet in the dirt and tried to arch out from under Keith’s hold. But Keith just ground his teeth and held on, and after an exhausting few more minutes of struggling, he finally went still.

Keith rolled Oroq off of him with a grunt and sat up. He had to move quickly now, he wouldn’t be unconscious for long if their respiratory systems worked anything like a humans, so he wasted no time in swiping the hunting knife from his belt and rushing down to the river. 

This was probably the most dangerous part of this whole situation. He didn’t have anything to purify the water and he couldn’t risk building a fire lest he attract attention with the smoke. So his only option was to drink unfiltered jungle river water and hope the pods back on the Castle could cure whatever parasites he got from it.

He dropped to his knees on the muddy bank and drank his fill, getting more mud on himself and soaking his suit all down the front, but it was hard to care. The water was lukewarm and tasted like dirt, but it was water, and at that point it was good enough. Then he filled his canteens and prepared to make his next move while he still had the cover of darkness. 

He wound up walking up the river to avoid leaving tracks. The water only went to his hips at the deepest points and the current wasn’t that strong, but the sucking mud and sediment at the bottom made it slow going. After a while even just raising his foot made his muscles burn and he could feel the exhaustion dogging his heels but he forced himself to think about the mounted Galra head and kept going until the lights began to turn up again. 

Keith topped off his canteens, then strode off into the jungle, letting himself leave a clear trail of footprints for about half a mile. Then he backtracked, stepping precisely in his own footprints, halfway back before climbing another tree.

_ Almost there. Just a little further.  _

He had the energy to make it three trees from his initial climb. The tree he wound up in forked about three fourths of the way up and Keith wedged himself into the gap, finally allowing himself to sit still and have a sip of his muddy water. 

God, every part of him hurt. The balls and heels of his feet (undoubtedly sporting a few dozen blisters), his knees, all the way to a deep ache in his lower back. He was scraped all over from rough landings and tree bark. He was ready to sleep for fifty years, and he was so fucking hungry, the type of hungry that made you question if you should eat or if you were about to puke.

The jungle didn’t seem too much different in the daylight. There was no birdsong, no cries of animals, and the insects buzzed the same day and night. It was monotonous, and yet so alien, and the tree was uncomfortable, and Keith found himself missing the Castle with a deep bitter sting he hadn’t felt since he’d been booted from the Garrison. 

Twisted up in a pretzel forty feet off the ground, Keith prayed to whichever deity existed this far out in space that he wouldn’t fall out of the tree while he slept, and finally let himself fall into darkness.

_ One day down. Two to go.  _

* * *

It was a good thing all the screens on the Castle were holographic, because if they weren’t Pidge would’ve just broken the one she was using after she punched at it in pure frustration.

They’d been flying for more than a quintant now, following the ship Jaxarc’s people swore they were picking up on their scanners, but for some reason that same ship wasn’t showing up on the Castle’s  _ or  _ Pidge’s radar. As if that weren’t enough, Keith’s armor tracker wasn’t broadcasting either, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. 

They were all exhausted, working themselves into the ground. She, Allura, Hunk, and Coran were all scrambling, trying to figure out what was wrong with the Castle and trying to boost the scanners and sensors and everything else. Shiro kept in contact with the Skyplex to give the rest of them updates on the Galra ships position, and Lance was scouting plausible docking locations in Blue. 

And still, nothing. 

“Fuck,” Pidge hissed to herself, grabbing two handfuls of her hair. “Fuck, shit, mother goddamn bastard--” Tears were welling up. She couldn’t do this again, she was already failing to find her brother and her father, she couldn’t lose Keith too, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

With a harsh sniffle, Pidge yanked off her glasses and ran a rough sleeve over her eyes until they were clear again. She wasn’t going to fail. She was going to figure out what kind of stealth technology that Galra ship had, she was going to track it down, and then she and the rest of the paladins were gonna blow the damn thing out of the sky and get their friend back. 

Pidge cracked her knuckles and got back to work. 

* * *

“The backtracking ends here.”

The voice startled Keith into disoriented wakefulness. Thankfully he was still aware enough to clap a hand over his mouth to hold in the instinctive yell as he blinked rapidly and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“Do you think he went in the trees again, sir?”

Keith leaned over his branch as much as he dared, peering down through the leaves. On the ground below, underneath the first tree Keith had climbed, was Jaxarc and two of his followers. Oroq was nowhere to be found.

Jaxarc straightened from his crouch on the ground, bracing his rifle over his shoulder. 

“Most likely. He’s more than agile enough.”

“So what do we do now?”

He considered for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes glanced up to the trees and Keith recoiled, but thankfully he wasn’t seen.

“Let’s go check the traps again. Time is only halfway up and he’s tiring-- you can tell with how the footsteps dragged. We’ll get him eventually.”

“Very good, sir.”

The group moved off into the trees and Keith stayed frozen. His hand stayed over his mouth, he barely dared to breathe, until almost twenty minutes after the last sounds of their passage through the trees has passed. 

_ That was way, way too close.  _

If Jaxarc had looked just a little bit closer--

With a shudder, Keith shoved the thought away and untangled himself a bit. The light was orange again, marking that he’d slept until the afternoon. Too long and he’d almost gotten caught. Reckless. 

He stretched out his limbs, preparing to climb down, and it wasn’t until that moment that the adrenaline faded enough to feel the pain. And  _ shit  _ did it hurt-- he was sore all over, every minute twitch of his muscles sent waves of agony through him, and when he put his foot down on the first limb to climb he had to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering. 

When he finally reached the bottom of the tree he allowed himself a sip of water and stretched out his back. His spine let out a series of cracks all the way up, and it hurt, but it felt marginally better after that. That wouldn’t help with the hunger, though. His stomach ached just like the rest of him, and he could tell when he held out the stolen knife that his hands were shaking. 

_ It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Keep moving. _

Jaxarc and his group had gone back the way they’d come, downstream. So he should keep going upstream, maybe find the edge of the dome and follow it back towards the door. Then he could hide out until the time was up and be out the second it did. 

It wasn’t a horribly detailed plan, but it was the best he had, so he gathered up another bundle of sticks and leaves to drag behind him and set out. 

Movement helped stretch out his muscles a bit, and after a little while he could go on autopilot; just let his legs keep moving forward while his mind drifted. The light was steadily dimming again and maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that he’d slept so late, it was probably better for him to be moving at night anyway when it would be harder to spot him. He allowed himself a sip from his canteen every so often, after all he wasn’t too far from the river and could easily refill if he ran out.

He tried to only think about the practical, about survival. He knew if he let himself think about how scared the other paladins probably were, or about how much he’d rather be at the Castle right now, or how he knew they shouldn’t have done the demonstrations, or the imminent death lurking in the forest, he’d shut down. He couldn’t afford that.

The full night cycle fell and he kept going. The light wasn’t terribly high, especially under the canopy, but he’d always been able to see well enough in the dark so he didn’t concern himself with it. Keith was absolutely drenched in sweat from the humidity, probably red faced, probably covered in dirt and grime, and definitely didn’t smell very nice. His knees were wobbly from hunger and his head pounded at his temples and behind his eyes but he kept going. He just had to keep going, keep dragging these branches over his footsteps and keep following the river to the edge of the dome. 

Just tonight and another day and then he could go home. The nightmare would be ov--

_ Twang! _

Keith’s whole world lurched as he was yanked into the air. He couldn’t bite back the yell this time, especially not when the starburst of pain radiated out from his knee. It had probably popped out of the socket from the burst of force from the snare he’d stepped in, but right at the moment he was too disoriented to recognize that. 

He scrabbled for his knife, the hunger and pain and adrenaline making him nearly drop it several times. It took him a couple of tries to bend upright and cut through the rope, and then he was falling to the soil flat on his back, knocking all the the air of of him.

The impact with the ground popped his knee back in place and he yelled again, the cry tapering off into a sob. The pain was less with the knee back where it was meant to be, but it still hurt like a motherfucker and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was sprained. 

Keith rolled over, levered himself onto his elbows, and vomited bile into the dirt. There he stayed for several minutes, panting, ignoring the tears running over his cheeks. He had to get moving, he had to hide, in case the hunters heard him screaming and came looking, but  _ fuck. _ The last time he’d dislocated something was months ago on the training deck and Shiro was there to put it back and take him to the infirmary and whisper reassuring things when no one else could hear. 

Now he was alone, on the run, filthy and tired and hungry with no way out.

It may have been childish of him, but he pounded his fist into the dirt. Once, twice, three times, registered the force reverberating up his arm. His knee, the left knee he now realized, throbbed in time with his heart.

He wanted Shiro. He wanted the rest of the paladins. He wanted to go home.

Fuck.

He forced himself to stand. His knee screamed when he put weight on it but it didn’t crumple, he didn’t fall, so he limped to collect his scattered gear and got himself situated, still sniffing piteously to himself. His mouth tasted awful but he didn’t want to walk the extra distance for more water, so he didn’t waste any to rinse. 

And he continued on his way.

Keith lasted another hour before he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering at every step on his injured knee and decided to find a place to hunker down. Luckily he found a place on ground level-- a sort of burrow underneath a massive tree root. It was an odd thing to find in a forest with no animals, but there weren’t any bones or detritus inside, so he figured it was safe enough to stay in. He pressed himself as far in as he could, curling up on his right side to reduce the stress on his leg.

He already knew he wasn’t going to sleep. He was too hungry, his leg hurt too much, he was too paranoid about the hunters sneaking up on him while he slept. He couldn’t have fallen asleep if he tried. No, he would just rest for as many hours as he could before he got too jumpy about staying in the same place, and then he would push on. 

As he laid there in the dirt, he wondered to himself if the others had figured it out yet. If they were still chasing a nonexistent Galra ship into the far reaches of space, or if they had turned around and were bearing down on the skyplex with righteous fury. 

He didn’t know, but he hoped it was the latter.

* * *

“He’s hurt.” Jaxarc swept eager eyes over the clearing, noting every little detail. The sprung, cut through snare, the tether strewn on the ground. The depression in the soil where his quarry had landed when he fell, the small puddle of vomit beside it. The tracks leading away, one foot dragging and the footstep pattern different than it had been before.

“And that’s good, sir?”

“Yes, it’s very good.” He squinted about, taking in their location. He’d gone upstream, which was unexpected, but now he was beginning to understand why.

“I know where he’s going. He’s headed back for the entrance.”

“Should we circle around and cut him off?”

“No. We’ll meet him there.”

He grinned cruelly, gleeful when his subordinates shifted in discomfort. They tell you never to corner a wounded animal, but Jaxarc didn’t believe that. When the animal was hurt, tired, scared, and desperate to do absolutely anything to survive?

That’s when the hunt was the most fun. 

* * *

“It’s like the damn thing doesn’t even exist!”

The words had been shouted in frustration, in despair, before Pidge let her head fall onto the table in front of her. Even more vargas had passed and they still hadn’t been able to sort out whatever was wrong with the Castles scanners. They still hadn’t been able to find the Galra ship, and they still hadn’t gotten Keith back. 

The thought struck like a lightning bolt, and she jolted upright. 

What if the ship didn’t exist?

Wasn’t it strange, that the Castle’s super advanced scanners couldn’t find the ship when Jaxarc’s could? Wasn’t it strange that Keith's armor tracker wasn’t working? But what if the ship didn’t exist to be scanned?

What if Keith had never left the skyplex?

Less than a minute later she was barging onto the bridge.

“Allura, turn this Castleship around!”

* * *

Morning dawned, and Keith didn’t want to move. He hadn’t slept a wink, and his eyes were dry and itchy and aching, just like the rest of him. His knee was swollen and twinged with every move he made. 

But he had to get up. If he wanted to live, if he wanted to go home, he had to move. So, painfully, he crawled out of his stolen burrow. 

His knee was royally fucked, he knew that within a few seconds, but he didn’t have a choice, so he hobbled to the nearest pile of debris and found a stick strong enough to lean on. He couldn’t carry everything, so he abandoned trying to cover his tracks and chose instead to keep the knife. 

It was almost over, anyway. 

He found the wall of glass within the next hour, but he didn’t go all the way to it, wary of cameras. He kept within the treeline, keeping one eye on the curve of the dome and one on his surroundings. Hopefully this time he’d see a trap before it got him.

Time passed, and Keith kept hobbling through the jungle. He was thirsty and hot but he couldn’t muster up the energy to reach for his half empty canteens. He couldn’t get distracted-- he just had to keep walking. One foot in front of the other (insofar as he could). Focus on the movement. Patience yields focus. Focus focus focus. 

Everything was a humid haze. Even the pain in his leg faded to the background. 

There, out of the corner of his eye. The glint of steel-- orange light reflecting off the door. His salvation. Then he saw the large green shape sitting before it and his heart dropped like a stone. 

Jaxarc was sprawled casually in front of the door, back against it, stubby legs crossed at the ankle. His top pair of hands were folded behind his head, and he hummed to himself while the other two cleaned his rifle. A long knife gleamed on his belt. 

Keith dropped to the ground behind a tree, heart pounding like mad. Damnit, he was so, so close, the door was  _ right there-- _

He forced a deep, quiet breath. All was not lost. Jaxarc seemed to be alone, neither of his helpers in sight, and the clock was ticking. He just had to stay hidden until the time ran out and then he could go home. It would be fine. 

“No point in hiding, Red Paladin.”

Icicles formed in Keith’s lungs.

“I know where you are.”

His breath rattled.

“Come out.” Jaxarc hauled the rifle to his shoulder, nonchalantly flipping a series of switches on the weapon. “Don’t make this more difficult.”

Keith clenched his fist around his walking stick until his knuckles paled. He didn’t budge from his spot. For all he knew Jaxarc was bluffing, and he wasn’t about to give himself away. 

After a moment of expectant silence, Jaxarc shrugged.

“Oh well. More fun this way.”

The rifle blast went right at his hiding place.

Keith threw himself to the side, out of the path of the shot but into the open, and landed on his knee with a shout. He looked up at Jaxarc to see him aiming again and dropped flat to the ground, letting the blast sail over his head.

He rolled behind the cover of another tree, breathing his pain through his teeth. Jaxarc laughed, cold and cruel. The dirt crunched when he stood.

The adrenaline had Keith shaking already.

“Come on, Red Paladin. Show me how well you fight.” The voice came from the other side of the tree. 

Keith forced himself into a crouch, pain in his knee going  _ thumpthumpthump  _ with his racing heart, and the moment Jaxarc’s green face loomed around the tree trunk he sprang up swinging. 

The branch cracked in half over Jaxarc’s head. The stretch of skin where his nose would’ve been if he had one split and orange blood spilled in messy streams, but he didn’t fall or stumble. He merely paused and blinked, but that was enough for Keith, who grabbed hold of the aliens own rifle and rammed it into the same spot. 

The white plating on the weapon was stained orange when Keith wrenched it from the aliens loosened grip. 

It was too heavy for him. He heaved it away into the bushes, only for Jaxarc to crash into his back, taking them both to the ground. Keith’s canteens split under his weight and soaked his stomach as he kicked and squirmed, his left hand clawing at the dirt in search of something to grab onto while the other kept hold of his knife. 

“What a disappointment. I’d thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

Keith shouted his rage to the canopy. He didn’t want to hurt Jaxarc, the Coalition needed him, he never wanted any of this, but Jaxarc wasn’t going to give him a choice. 

The alien flipped him over and Keith was treated to the image (and stench) of Jaxarc looming over him, inches from his face. A sickly, excited grin stretched his lips, despite the orange blood that dripped from his flesh and onto Keith’s cheeks. 

Guilt made him sick, but he had to. He didn’t have a choice. As accurately as he could with trembling limbs and being half pinned, Keith thrust his stolen blade towards Jaxarc’s side.

With his left two green hands, he caught Keith’s wrist before the blade could make contact. For a long moment they held each other’s gaze, Keith’s pleading and Jaxarc’s hungry. 

_ Please please please,  _ Keith thought feverishly,  _ please don’t make me. _

His wrist snapped. Keith screamed. The blade fell from his buzzing fingertips. Jaxarc leered down at him and laughed, putrid breath making it hard to breathe. 

“The Red Paladin. I truly am the greatest hunter in the universe.” He pulled his blade and poised the edge over Keith’s throat, leaning even closer. “Where should I hang your head, I wonder?”

The pressure on the knife began to increase. Keith struggled, and staring up into Jaxarc’s beady, gleaming gaze… he was afraid. 

He didn’t want to die. Not here, broken and worn thin and alone. God he didn’t want to die alone. 

It stung when the blade began to pierce the skin. Jaxarc was right over him now, barely an inch between them, watching, eagerly waiting to enjoy the view of the life fading out of him.

Something clicked.

Everything sharpened and came abruptly into focus. Suddenly he could see every pore in Jaxarc’s skin, every drop of sweat, every bit of dust that had been kicked into the air. The rustle of leaves in his ears was deafening, drowning out everything but the heat in his belly. 

He bared his teeth, a growl building in his throat, and when Jaxarc’s gaze flickered he knew. He wasn’t going to die here. He was going to go home.

Using his left hand as leverage, Keith sprung up and sank his teeth into Jaxarc’s pudgy throat. Sour orange blood coated his tongue (it tasted like Skittles) and he felt Jaxarc’s scream vibrate in his jaw. 

Following an instinct he didn’t know he had, Keith shook his head, like a pitbull, like a shark rending flesh from its prey, and heard the rip of sinew as the meat tore. He locked his jaw like a vice, even as Jaxarc flailed and layered bruises onto him and tried desperately to pry him off.

Keith didn’t let go until he stopped moving. 

* * *

The wormhole got them back to the skyplex in minutes and the team didn’t waste any time demanding to speak with Jaxarc. When the shaken attendant informed them he was on his ‘Grand Hunt’, something tightened in Shiro’s gut and refused to relax, remembering the aliens disturbing collection in the banquet hall. Ignoring the attendants protests, Allura then led them up to the jungle dome on the top level of the skyplex, where she then had to argue with another set of door guards.

Shiro was itching with the urge to just knock their heads together and be done with it. Didn’t they understand, Keith was gone, he’d been missing for more than two whole days, anything could have happened to him, he could be hurt or sick or  _ dead  _ and didn’t they understand what that meant?

He wasn’t even sure what was going on. He didn’t know why Keith would still be in the skyplex and he didn’t know what the alien had meant when he said ‘Grand Hunt’, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to get his brother back. 

Finally Allura managed to convince the guards to stand aside, and they finally made it through the door. Shiro wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what he got.

It was horrifying. Jaxarc was sprawled over the soil not more than three yards from the exit, green blubbery flesh sagging off of him and splashed with orange-- orange coming from the gaping, torn wound in his throat. 

Five feet from the corpse, already recoiling at the presence of more people, was Keith. But he didn’t look like Keith. 

His armor was gone, leaving only the black flight suit behind, torn in a few places and stained with mud. His left leg sat at on awkward angle, the knee clearly swollen, and he cradled his right hand to his chest. His hair was wild, filled with purple leaves and twigs and clumps of soil. Orange stained the skin around his mouth and dripped down his chin; dripping from his canines that Shiro was pretty certain hadn’t been that sharp a few days ago.

Most obviously, and what has Hunk and Lance backing up a few steps, was his eyes. The pupils had constricted and narrowed into slits, cat-like, and the whites had turned a sickly lemon yellow.

He looked feral.

“Jesus Christ,” Lance breathed from behind Shiro. Pidge started forward, Keith’s name on her lips, but he recoiled with a snarl and a pained hiss when the motion dragged his injured leg over the ground. 

Shiro held out an arm, signalling to the other paladins to stay back, and slowly, slowly sank into a crouch.

Keith was hurt, and scared. He needed them to be calm and help him, not panic. 

The yellow eyes were disconcerting, he can’t lie to himself well enough to claim otherwise. Those eyes followed every motion he made. 

“Keith,” he murmured quietly. Keith sucked in a harsh inhale, but said nothing yet. Shiro didn’t move forward. “Keith, it’s ok. It’s Shiro. Do you know me?”

Keith’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, probably swallowing blood with the motion, and Shiro tried his best not to feel sick. 

The domed jungle buzzed around them.

Then Keith blinked, and when his eyes opened again the yellow was gone and his pupils had returned to normal, and suddenly he looked very, very tired. 

“... Shiro?”

The Black Paladin let out a harsh breath and finally moved forward to meet him, catching Keith right as he began to topple over. 

“Hunk, we’re going to need that stretcher.” 

All three of the other paladins were deathly pale when he looked over his shoulder at them, frozen in horror. Hunk had tears running down his cheeks, but even so he moved forward to start assembling the stretcher he’d brought along, just in case Pidge was right and he hadn’t been taken by Galra and might’ve needed help. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmured again, and Shiro looked back down at him. His expression was wild, verging on panic. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro was stunned into silence.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t meant to kill him, I swear, I just--”

His voice was rough and raspy and it cracked painfully when he tried to speak. Tears rose and fell, leaving clear tracks through the dirt covering his pale face. 

“I just wanted to go home.”

Shiro’s throat constricted and he couldn’t say anything, so he merely hugged Keith closer and rocked him as he cried. 

* * *

Things didn’t calm down when they reached the Castle. Allura had to stay down on the skyplex to figure out what happened and deal with the huge mess of Jaxarc’s death. Keith was exhausted, dehydrated, and malnourished. His left knee had been dislocated and sprained and his right wrist was broken, along with a smattering of scrapes and bruises. Coran was in a complete tizzy, talking a million miles an hour. 

“Well, well, well, this is not good, not good at all! He’ll have to be rehydrated before he can go in the pod, and that’ll take the better part of a quintant, and then once he’s out we’ll have to set up an eating schedule to get him back on his feet, and  _ goodness--” _

This was where Shiro tuned out, moving across the med bay to where Keith was sitting on a cot, still carefully cradling his wrist. He perched himself on the cot next to him, careful not to jostle his leg. 

“It’s gonna need a sling,” he murmured numbly, not looking at Shiro even when he nodded in agreement.

“We’ll get everything sorted out. Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Keith shook his head without a word. Shiro had his suspicions, but he wasn’t going to pry. Instead he merely rubbed Keith’s back, trying to soothe the tired muscles. 

“I’m really tired,” whispered Keith. 

“I know. You’ll get to sleep soon.”

A little while later and Keith got his wish. He was settled on the cot, laying back with one arm in a sling and an IV in the other. Shiro had helped him change out of the ruined flight suit and into something more comfortable, wiping away as much of the dirt as he could in the process, then joined him on the cot, determined not to let him be snatched away again. 

The others had left a little bit ago, exhausted in their own right and longing for their beds. Allura still hadn’t returned. Coran lingered on the other side of the room, trying not to hover but still needing to keep an eye on his patient. 

Keith shifted restlessly, his good hand rising to rub at his eyes.

“You can sleep if you’re tired.”

Despite his earlier statement, Keith shook his head. “Can’t. ‘S not safe.”

Shiro bit the inside of his lip, remembering how Keith had panicked just an hour ago at the suggestion of Coran sedating him. 

“It’s safe. I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“No.”

It was understandable. As much as it pained him to hear, Shiro understood. Though maybe he could understand better if Keith told him exactly what happened, but that was out of his hands. 

“Do you want something for the pain?” He asked, noting how Keith grimaced at the movement of his leg. Keith hesitated, knowing the pain meds might put him to sleep, but eventually nodded. Shiro waved Coran over.

There was another five minutes of silence, Keith beginning to incrementally relax as the medication filtered in through the IV. 

“I’m sorry,” said Keith suddenly, raspy voice making Shiro jump. 

“For what?”

“I was bad. I’m not supposed to let people see.”

Ok, so those Altean pain meds were fast acting. Good to know. But…

“What do you… oh. You mean what happened with your eyes earlier?”

He felt Keith’s nod on the pillow and rolled onto his side to face him. Keith had his face hidden by the pillow and his hair. 

“So that’s happened to you before?”

“I’m not supposed to let people see,” Keith repeated, and Shiro supposed that was as much an answer as anything else. “Dad said if someone saw they’d take me away from him.”

“Keith--”

“I’m not supposed to let people know that I’m wrong.” His voice had taken on a thin, reedy quality, almost pleasing. “‘M sorry.”

“Keith, it’s ok,” Shiro said, pulling Keith as close as his injuries would allow. “You’re not bad, or wrong.”

“You don’t have to lie, Shiro, I know I am. ‘S why no one ever kept me.”

“That’s not true.” It came out choked. After the fear of the last few days, the rage and despair of finally finding Keith, and now this-- it’s all too much for him to hold in.

“He knew,” mumbled Keith. His words were beginning to slur, the exhaustion finally taking over. “That’s why he took me. He knew I deserved it.”

Shiro wanted nothing more than to reassure him, to convince him that he hadn’t deserved anything that bastard did. But by the time Shiro had cleared his throat enough to speak, Keith had already been pulled under by the exhaustion and the medication. So Shiro tried to be as quiet as he could while he cried.

He didn’t want to wake Keith. 


End file.
